


Curse, Definitely

by ilyena_sylph



Series: Second Chance Verse [2]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-04
Updated: 2006-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HUGE thank-yous to Merfilly, for an amazing J'onn, and to Darkdanc3r, who helped me work out Dick's opinions on things.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Curse, Definitely

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thank-yous to Merfilly, for an amazing J'onn, and to Darkdanc3r, who helped me work out Dick's opinions on things.

Alfred was waiting in the Cave when Master Bruce finally returned from his hunt of the magic user who had been troubling the city for the last several days, and he frowned slightly as the man he had helped raise stepped out of the Car. There was something not quite right about the posture, as though the suit was fitted poorly to him--impossible as that was. He moved towards the Car as Master Bruce came towards him... and then he pushed the cowl back, and his eyes widened before he could control the reaction. He had seen many strange things in the time since Master Bruce had chosen, but to see his one-time ward and old friend looking at him from the face of a late-teenaged boy was assuredly one of the strangest. "Master Bruce?"

"Alfred." The voice was lighter than he had heard in years, as well. "We have something of a problem."

"Master Bruce, understatement can be useful, but at this point it seems rather more ironic than practical." There were days he wished he had not helped to teach him to be so closed-mouthed.

Bruce closed his eyes a moment, a reaction Alfred had not seen since he had been this age the first time. "The spellcaster Jason and I were chasing targeted me. Jason attempted to shield me, but the spell still took partial effect, reverting my body to this."

Alfred took hope from the phrasing of that... and Bruce saw it in his eyes. "I do still possess my memories, Alfred, but they are... dimmed, anything from after this age takes me a little effort to reach." He disliked dashing that hope, but Alfred needed to know--would likely be much needed in covering the worst of this.

From the expression, Alfred well realized it. "Is this likely to wear off, Master Bruce, and if so, how soon? For a short time we can easily fake a sickness..." His first charge was shaking his head, and he trailed off, waiting for the rest of it.

"According to both Jason and Dr. Fate, attempting to tamper further might trigger a change to infancy or senility, Alfred. They're both fairly certain I'm stuck like this."

Alfred gave up attempting to control his own expression and closed his eyes, fingers coming to press against the bridge of his nose. "Master Bruce--"

"I know, Alfred. Trust me, I _well_ know. I'm going to go get out of the suit, then we'll talk about the rest of this. Tim should be back soon, shouldn't he?" The expression of frustration as Bruce struggled with details that should have been innate was one Alfred well-remembered. Master Bruce had had a towering fury and a fuse to match in his youth, though by this age he had been near to taking the cowl. He prayed that the retained memories would keep him under control. Else... he was not young enough to cope with Master Bruce's teenaged years again.

"No. It's only Saturday. He won't be in until tomorrow night," Bruce answered himself after a moment. "He's with the Titans."

"I can call him home, Master Bruce..."

"No. Let him have the rest of the weekend, before he has to deal with this. It's not likely to change any time soon, after all."

Alfred nodded at the truth of that as his first charge went to strip out of the suit and change into ill-fitting civilian clothing... yet, he remained in the Cave, looking thoughtfully at a monitor. "Master Bruce?"

"I... have a function tomorrow. A dinner with the head of Shihon Tech, don't I?"

"Yes, Master Bruce, but we could handle that."

"No. Bruce Wayne needs to be there, or he will be horribly offended. Could you prepare a plate of Chocos and a glass of milk, and bring it to the small study?"

"...Of course, Master Bruce." //J'onn J'onnz. Good to see his memory is not so faulty on all details,// the very thought shook him to his bones, but he went to do as requested.

Bruce walked up the stairs, using the memories of J'onn to call up the discipline necessary for a mortal mind to _reach_ for the Martian Manhunter. ::J'onn?:: he called, almost as loudly as he could. This was not being routed through a League system.

:: I am here :: The concept rolled through Bruce with the full flavor of all that friendship meant, reminding Bruce why so many went to J'onn with problems.

:: I... need your help, :: he told his old friend. :: Can you meet me? ::

:: Where? ::

::My study. Alfred has Chocos.:: That last thought was more... whimsical than J'onn would be used to from the Bat.

:: ... Soon. :: The return thought implied haste, and puzzlement.

:: Thank you. :: Bruce replied, and settled to wait. The clothes fit ill, much like the teenage habit of wearing too-baggy clothes, but they were the best fit he had had below. Alfred came and left the plate of Chocos, then retired again, looking intently focused on some matter.

It was not a long time until the security system announced J'onn's presence, and the usage of a bypass code by the same. J'onn phased into the study, only shedding his invisibility as he materialized fully. His browridge cocked up on one side, then he cocked his head to one side. "Has Klarion been around?"

"I could wish it was so simple," Bruce replied. "No, this is a new spellcaster's fault. However, Jason informed me he is no longer a threat to the populace." He preferred not to think of by what means Jason might have assured that, what the Demon might have done while angry.

J'onn shook his head. "If you are still like this, then your old friend was incapable of reversing what was done, hence your call for me?"

Bruce nodded. "Both he and Dr. Fate feel that prodding at this with more magic might have... very adverse effects. I seem to be stuck."

"And the world cannot lose Bruce Wayne for the length of time this could take to unravel," J'onn said wisely. "Allow me to offer you my aid on that matter."

"Thank you, J'onn." Bruce said softly, and the words were for both the assistance and the offer. He never had been good at asking for help. "There is a function 'I' must attend tomorrow, a dinner with myself, Lucius, and some members of Shihon Tech, including the company president, and there are some other matters. I believe Alfred is thinking on what illness I should fake to remove myself for a time, however, which should minimize the necessity of you behaving the society fop."

J'onn let a smile touch his lips. "Thank you. Your 'dates' tend to be rather empty, and insist on touching too much." He sat down on the couch. "I will gladly fill in for you as necessary. I ...miss dabbling in business."

Bruce nodded in agreement with J'onn's words. "There is reason for that," he said simply. That didn't mean he had ever enjoyed it. His attention was caught by J'onn's statement, and it took some moments before he remembered exactly why that would be. "I suppose you would. Thank you again, J'onn." He was attempting to keep his emotions under control and shut away from J'onn, but he was not certain how well he was succeeding. He knew he sounded calm, however, he was actually anything but.

J'onn was politely watching him. "I know this must be very confusing, but I suggest you ...find someone you are comfortable with to talk it out with," he finally said. //I have not been a hatchling in so many ages... this I cannot aid in.//

Bruce sighed, closing his eyes--a reaction normally hidden by the cowl or not allowed to occur--and slowly nodded. "I believe I must. This is... extremely difficult. And even more frustrating." //I _despise_ feeling powerless.// He shook off the thought. "In any case. I brought the files involved home to look over, and they are on the desk. I spent a great deal of time in Japan, which is a known fact, so you need not pretend to be an ignorant gaijin."

J'onn nodded once, a slightly relieved expression on his face. "I shall review those at home, I believe, if you will allow me to take them." He wished to withdraw, despite the knowledge that Bruce needed someone. The very strange flavor of magic-altered perception and thought and memory was making him slightly nauseous.

"You may as well. I don't need them." Bruce indicated the plate of cookies with a slight turn of his hand, and J'onn took a few gratefully.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"I don't think so, J'onn."

"Then I go. Thank you for the cookies."

Bruce smiled slightly--a different look on that younger face, not so cynical. "You're welcome."

J'onn nodded, and picked up the files to disappear again.

*~*~*

Bruce sat there for a few long minutes, trying to settle himself to deal with Dick. Between his adopted son's sense of humor, taste for the absurd, and the many issues between them, most of which this was going to do some _very_ interesting things to... it was going to be extremely difficult. //No time like the present,// he finally thought with a sigh and rose to go find Alfred. He found him sewing, carefully altering slacks, and leaned against the table until he looked up. "Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Call Dick, Alfred. Ask him to come home."

The request apparently surprised his one-time guardian, though he wasn't sure why. "As you wish, Master Bruce." Alfred went to use the phone, and Bruce returned to the study, prowling through it in an attempt to find something to read until Dick arrived.

*~*~*

The perimeter alarms had gone off, leaving plenty of time for Alfred to meet him at the doorway to the garage, eyes concerned behind the impassive expression.

  
Dick smiled when he saw Alfred. "Hey, Alfie what's u... what's wrong?"

Alfred shook his head once. "The small study, Master Dick," he said instead of answering.

Dick frowned at the non-answer. It was never good when Alfie deflected questions like that. He'd promised everyone was healthy, but with the amount of pressure he'd put on him to come home... there had to be something badly wrong. Knowing that pushing for answers was pointless, he sighed and made his way to the small study, trying to figure out what was waiting for him.

When he pushed open the door, the sight that met his eyes was probably both stunning and confusing. A young man who could easily rival his own attractiveness sat in one of the chairs, and had obviously been reading until the door began to swing open. Timberwolf-blue, guarded eyes found his easily. The clothing was the typical excellent quality found in the Manor, but both shirt and slacks hung on him incorrectly, some sizes too large. His hair fell in night-black short, slight waves, and the set of his lips and jaw said he didn't smile often, or easily... and oddest of all, the face was _familiar_.

Dick blinked slowly, confused, but more than turned on despite that confusion. The man in front of him was every bit as attractive as Roy could be when he dressed up, but at the same time he looked like a child playing dress-up in his father's clothing, the way he was dressed. //And given the quality of the clothing he has to know it, why would you deliberately...?// It'd been a while since anyone had made him notice them _quite_ this deep, and he cursed his lack of timing, trying to understand why this man was so familiar, if he was some ally of Bruce's that he ought to know despite the youth, or one's son... because what parts of his brain and heart were telling him just couldn't be right. "Hello... can I help you?" //I thought Bruce said he didn't have family...//

"I'd hope so, Dick," Bruce replied, realizing the disadvantage of his position at almost the same moment. Dick could be stressful enough under normal circumstances, now... "We have quite the situation."

Dick **stared**. There was no mistaking that tone, the pace of that voice, not for him, despite that the register was off. " _Bruce_?!" He shook his head and looked again, hoping he'd been seeing things... and the view didn't change. "Oh my god, what happened to you?"

"Some rather interesting magic," Bruce replied evenly. "That I seem to be... trapped with. In, perhaps?"

Dick walked closer, dropping to his knees not far from the chair to get a closer look. "This is... insane. You can't be older than 20 now!" //Why did you ever cut your hair?//

"I know that, Dick. Very well." Dick's habit of stating the obvious was still extremely annoying. Dick's posture was another level of stress, if he allowed himself to think about it--which he wasn't.

"Soo... is someone going to fix this?" //I kind of hope they don't...// He was trying not to stare too obviously, but even as a 20 year old, Bruce was gorgeous... and maybe now he'd be more amenable to sleeping with Dick. //The age difference isn't a problem anymore--if anything, I'm the _older_ one now...// He shook his head slightly, trying to push it away. He truly shouldn't be thinking like that.

"No. Jason and Fate have both studied the problem, and believe strongly that that would either leave me an infant or a very old man." He knew that look from years of debutantes and from the memories of his elder self, but seeing it in Dick's eyes, especially now, was as disturbing as a... conversation in Dick's late teens had been.

Dick winced. "So you're going to have to grow into yourself all over again?" //Oh, god. That is going to suck, so much... What are we going to do?//

"Apparently. However, as evidenced by that I'm talking to you, I still have access to my memories." Bruce was not in the slightest pleased about the first, and it was obvious by the tone of his voice.

Dick nodded. He was definitely glad Bruce still remembered him, but it was going to suck not to have Batman around. Really a _lot_ , and that might mean, //no. No. _NOT_ again.// And how in the hell were they going to explain Bruce Wayne's new, dramatically younger appearance. "Well... the media is going to want to know who your plastic surgeon is..."

Bruce closed his eyes, "Not amusing, Dick. Figuring out how to deal with that is going to give me a number of bad nights--or possibly days. J'onn's agreed to take care of my appearances as Bruce for the next few days, and then he will probably have to develop some kind of long-term illness. This is going to throw a great deal of weight on you..."

Dick sighed, glad Bruce had thought at least as far as his public appearance. Not that he wouldn't--he was Batman, even if he was years younger in appearance. "I realize that, trust me. Have you told Tim yet? And how the hell do you plan to explain Himself's disappearance?" No way in hell he was taking up the mantle unless he absolutely had to. He'd done that once, and the memories still haunted him. He could play the role, but... the darkness slowly drowned him. //Not that you're doing much of a better job yourself,// part of him said nastily, and he struggled to ignore it.

"Bruce Wayne and Batman cannot disappear in the same frame of time, Dick, and neither the suit built for you or mine come near fitting. And there are... other difficulties. I can ask J'onn to extend his role to both, difficult as that will make his life, or..." //I know you hate it, Dick. But you know I'm right...//

Dick scowled. Damnit, he'd never wanted the mantle, and not like this. It was leagues better than Bruce being hurt or - gods forbid it - dead, but... "I know..."

Bruce waited, watching him steadily. "I know how little you want this, Dick. And I know the Outsiders need you." //I should, I paid Arsenal to build them for you.// That memory had been startlingly vivid, when he tried to call his partner to mind. "No, I haven't told Tim yet. He's out with the Titans."

"And calling him back would tell him something's dead wrong." He ran his fingers through his hair and dropped back off his heels to actually sit on the floor, looking up at the too-young man with his partner's mind inside there. "How long do you think it'll be before you can take up your mantle again?" //Please... don't make me keep it!//

"As quickly as possible," Bruce told him softly. "The Bat doesn't suit you. It's mostly a matter of retraining--" his lips twisted into an odd smile, "--which I may need your help with. I know many of _my_ teachers are dead, and I have no bonds to their other students." That had preyed on his mind throughout, the realization that his skills had been dulled...

Dick was relieved by that admission, then blinked. "Me... teach you?" Disturbing as that thought was, it drew a slow, slightly evil smile from Dick. This could quite possibly be fun.

"Some things I haven't taught Tim yet, Dick." The disturbingly young man seated across from him still recognized _that_ smile, and winced internally at what he was probably in for. He remembered enough of training Dick to know how ruthless he had been... and Dick had a finely honed sense of appropriate vengeance. //This... may be a disaster of truly epic proportions...//

"Hmm... okay, I'm game." Odd to think that Tim hadn't gotten everything out of the Bat, yet, but no matter. He was about to get a little of his own back for all the grueling mind-blowingly boring drills he'd had to do as a teen. Though, the thought of that much contact with the distractingly gorgeous, much younger version of his partner did absolutely _nothing_ to help keep himself under control.

"Why does that not surprise me?" His tone was fairly idle. "We're not, however, starting immediately. I need to talk to Tim, and attempt to regain a little more control. And I think you're rather in the middle of a case yourself." He knew very well Dick was, he remembered that much.

Dick nodded. Just as well--he needed time to think up some truly appropriate drills for Bruce. "True." //Thank you for letting me finish that.//

"Remember, Dick... I do still have the memories. Don't expect me _not_ to recall something you mean to use..." Best he checked his eldest's mischief before it could surge too far.

Dick pouted at him. "Would I be that nasty?"

"Of course you would." //Don't forget that I know you, either.//

Dick pouted again. "Younger, but still out to ruin all my fun."

Bruce smiled at him, more a baring of teeth, and considered for a moment warning Dick against his temper... and decided to save that until he'd found someone _not_ his adoptive son he could actually trust to know and talk about this with. Hopefully he'd manage to pull himself back under his usual control, if he could just get some time to deal with the reactions...

Dick rolled his eyes, then stretched. "So... what? How the hell do we explain your presence, anyway? Or are you gong to move into the Cave for a while?"

Despite every, very deliberate, mental repetition of Dick's status as his son and heir, his eyes tracked that movement, the long lines of his body, cursing teenaged reactions bitterly and trying to keep his face blank. "So long as I stay within the Manor grounds, no-one will know. When out... we'll see." He had a thought or two on that, but it might require some very careful work.

Dick nodded, personally wondering if he'd stretched for his sake or for Bruce's. "Makes sense. If nothing else we might be able to explain you as either a long-lost brother of mine, or a cousin of Tim's."

"Possible," Bruce agreed. "I think that's everything for the moment, unless you have something?"

//Sleep with me?// That the thought was still so hungry should have shamed him more than it did, involved as he was with Roy--not that their complicated, on and off, tempestuous relationship had kept either of them from other entanglements; but... he'd wanted Bruce for so long. "No... I think that about covers it. Though before I leave I think I'll beg lunch from Alfie."

Bruce nodded. //The day you don't beg food from Alfred before you leave, Dick, I'll know you've been possessed, replaced by a clone, or brainwashed.//

Dick rolled easily to his feet and headed out of the room, trying to figure out the fastest way to hunt down Alfred. Grinning, he simply made his way to the kitchen. Alfred **always** worried about having Dick in the kitchen, and would probably magically appear just to keep him from burning the manor down.

Bruce sat back, eyes closing as he tried to force himself to composure. Dick always had been good at getting under his skin--and he lacked the control of his reactions age had taught him. The young man's body he wore was almost alien in its reactions, familiar as the tracery of scars was... he breathed deeply, slowly, settling himself. //Of all the things I _don't_ need to deal with, Dick...//

He pulled himself under control and started to consider who he could _possibly_ trust with this... and the list was very, very short, especially with Alfred not a possibility. He'd been an intensely private teen the first time around, and his true-self had done far too good a job of isolating himself from the friends he had once had... let alone the ones he'd lost.

He had another day to think about it, in any case. //Entirely too much time...//

*~*~*~*

Tim cut the bike's engine, kicking down the stand to park as he slid off and went to go change. He'd had Kon drop him off back in the city, figuring Bruce was still out chasing that crazy mage with Blood--and staying as far away from the Demon as possible was definitely on Tim's list of things to do. Raven was bad enough, but Etrigan... no, thank you. He walked into the wardrobe and stripped out of the suit, pulling on a pair of slacks and a polo. He wanted a couple hours of downtime before he headed out, and possibly a quick nap... then he saw Alfred standing halfway up the stairs and something about his posture made him tense. "Alfred?"

"Master Timothy."

"What's happened? --Did something happen to Bruce? Why didn't you call me if there's someth--" Alfred only called him that when he was in trouble or there was trouble and he hadn't done anything to get in trouble.

"Master Tim. Stop. Come upstairs."

Tim was hard-pressed to follow Alfred's brisk but unhurried pace, especially once they were off the stairs. He would almost have preferred to hunt for Bruce on his own, at his own speed... but that was impractical. Alfred obviously knew where he was. //Unless it's Dick, something could have happened to Dick and Alfred would--// He forced that train of thought to stop and kept his mouth shut, knowing from that implacable tone that getting anything out of Alfred was going to be like getting medical information out of Leslie, or someone else's secret out of Bruce. It just didn't happen. The turns they took told him it couldn't be that bad, if they were just headed for the study... Finally, Alfred pushed open the door and stepped aside, letting Tim walk in.

A stranger stood looking out the windows, bizarre almost beyond belief in this house, but the line of his shoulders and back wasn't one Tim knew. The clothing, on the other hand, was familiar, but not the sizes he had last seen it in. Whoever this was, they were either in the hero business //not possible. I'd know them then// or was a very, _very_ serious athlete. Linen, even heavy, didn't do _that_ much to hide the muscle there. //Just a _little_ over Dick's height, I think...// he kept evaluating, trying to see to the bottom of this before the stranger noticed him.

//I'd say... late teens, about Connor's age, or maybe almost Dick's... but... who are you, to be this arrogant in _this_ house?// The raven-black hair could have almost marked him as part of the family, but Bruce had no siblings, and Thomas Wayne had been an only child as well. //And why would Alfred want me to--//

"Tim. Titans have any trouble?" the stranger turned, and sharp blue eyes looked at him from a face and body that was utterly wrong.

"I'm sorry?" He stalled frantically for time as the evidence of his eyes clashed with the knowledge and cool composure of that tone. The voice was _almost_ Bruce's, the eyes... there was age lurking in them, and the color was a dead match, but the heat there... Bruce's eyes didn't have that fire behind them... //Crusader's fire...//

"It's a good act, Tim, but drop it. It's me."

" _Bruce?_ '' //Holy Shit, Batman.// The utterly inappropriate mockery of Dick's old catch-phrase was honestly the only thing he could think for almost four seconds, then his brain kicked into overdrive. //Magic. No tech could d--and they were hunting that spellcaster. But he was _with_ Blood, he shouldn't still-- Blood couldn't fix it.... oh. Damn. This is _BAD_.// "Is there a duration on this wearing off?"

Bruce watched Tim's expression go blank, then sharp, thoughts flickering at lightning speed behind the focus. //One of the traits that makes him my best successor,// he thought, realizing that was from his more recent memories. The question came after several moments, and he shook his head. "No. I'm... going to have to grow out of it, again." One of these times he was going to get that disgusted tone out of his voice when he said it, too.

"Jesus."

The profanity... actually summed the situation up fairly well, and he nodded.

"Tell me."

Bruce snorted softly. That was Robin to the bone, the demand for information right now. "The spellcaster took aim at me when we cornered him. Jason managed to mainly shield me, but this is the aftereffect. The combination of the protection and the original spell makes it very dangerous to attempt to reverse it... as I'm rather sure you agree that neither infancy nor extreme old age would be an acceptable result of the attempt?"

"That's Blood's opinion?"

Bruce almost smiled to hear the distrust in that voice, pleased that he had not misremembered the state of things between his wary partner and his friend and teacher. "And Dr. Fate's. We called him in when Jason was unable to do anything."

He watched those few slow, thoughtful breaths, trying--and then succeeding--in recalling what technique Tim was using.

"What about one of the others?"

"Unwise. When Dr. Fate sounds that uneasy, it's best to listen."

"You'd rather stay like this?"

"Given the most likely two alternatives, yes."

"Bruce, you do realize what this will _do_?"

"Quite clearly, Timothy." //This feels like arguing with Harv...// "However, when my teacher in all things magic and one of the Lords of Order's avatar tell me I'll be either a doddering old man or a squalling infant if they attempt to meddle with conjoined and powerful magics, I'm damned well not going to take the chance they're right!" //Damn my temper,// he thought a moment later, hearing what he'd said and how he'd said it.

Tim fixed his eyes on a point a few inches past Bruce's right shoulder and didn't allow himself to even blink until he'd figured out how to react to the slowly rising black anger that voice. //Disengage, reposition, re-engage. You're on very shaky ground, Robin...// Bruce never _argued_ with him. He declared, or demanded, and if you challenged him you got black silence or an order... but not an actual answer, or one that invited further debate.

"Despite what it will do to lose you?"

" _Yes,_ Robin. I am not taking that chance."

He made himself consider those words, too, and slowly nodded. "No. Neither is acceptable. They're certain?"

"Certainty in magic, Tim? Where did you get that idea? It certainly wasn't from me. No. They're not certain... but they're both very worried by the idea of tampering farther."

Tim let himself roll his eyes slightly, trying to plot out all of the angles to this with the pieces he had so far. "What did you do about the meeting today?"

"J'onn attended. And seems to have enjoyed it at least somewhat."

//The Martian Manhunter knows, and you didn't spare the time to give me a damned phonecall?// "Who else knows?"

"Jason. Fate. J'onn, and Dick. Oracle doesn't know, and until I figure out what I'm going to _do_ in the long term about this mess, she's not going to. If you need Batman, page J'onn with your callsign. Or Dick, as soon as he wraps up his case in the 'Haven."

Tim snorted. "And what are you going to be up to?" //While the rest of us try and take up the slack?//

" _Coping_ , Timothy. As best I can."

//This is not good...// That had almost been a snarl. "Bruce... is there more wrong than just the physical?"

"I'm a nineteen year old, Tim, according to what tests we ran and Alfred's best guess from memory. Physically and hormonally, and those are my strongest memories, as well."

//So it's not just the body, it's the mind...// Only that it had been a direct order was going to keep him from telling Oracle as soon as he was out of this room. And if Bruce hadn't told Babs by the time he was thinking about going back on the streets Batman and Robin were going to have a very nasty little altercation. No way in hell was that happening, not with the flickers of temper even he was getting. //And, I'm going to get Alfred alone and talk at him until he tells me everything about what it was like to deal with Bruce like this. I've _got_ to know how to handle him. My usual strategies aren't going to work---Shit. It's because I'm too much like him. We both know it... and right now that makes me a threat... _Damn._ I knew his alpha-male tendencies were a pain in the ass but _this_ level is new...//

"Okay. That's... difficult but possible to work with--around, more precisely. Anything else I need to know? I'm going to go hit the streets, it'll take me longer to work both our sections, even if I can get Cass to take over part of mine. See you when I get in." //Out of here, out of here right now.//

"Be safe."

Tim took the dismissal for what it was and went. //So much for my nap... God. Kon I wish I could talk to you...// But if he did that, they'd probably never find his body.

Tim gone, Bruce sighed softly, un-knotting the muscles of his back from the discussion. //Something that went worse for Tim and I than Dick and I, who would have thought? Does he really think I _don't_ understand the situation?//

//Stop that. He's supposed to test the angles. Just doing his job.// He sighed softly and went to see if Alfred had anything to eat. Another thing he hadn't missed about his late teens... the perpetual hunger.  



End file.
